


Younger Days

by verymerrysioux



Series: Linked Universe [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dimension Travel, Gen, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-01-31 06:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18585478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verymerrysioux/pseuds/verymerrysioux
Summary: Link thought he was done with being forcefully put in a younger/older body, but life always wants to surprise him.Set in jojo56830's Linked Universe AU





	1. Younger Body

**Author's Note:**

> Some more Linked Universe fics! I should really start on my other fics lmao. Anyways no beta I die like a Hyrule warrior.
> 
> Also there are actual tags for this AU now??? I love them all.
> 
> Check out the AU here: [[Tumblr](https://linkeduniverse.tumblr.com)], [[Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/linkeduniverse_au/)]

Link often thinks that his title of the Hero of Time is less about his ability of controlling the flow of time (which, really, is more on the ocarina than him) and more like time itself likes making him the butt of their jokes.

His current situation is a prime example.

Wizzrobes shouldn’t be able to change the age of a person. Then again, wizzrobes usually don’t ooze black tar from their bodies either.

He looks down at himself. If he had to guess, he was around ten years old.

Wonderful.

He sighs, bringing up his tunic, it’s more of a gown now at this point, and covering himself as much as possible. He steps out of his heap of clothes and armor, careful not to trip (goddess, had he really been this small?), and looks up at all of the other Links.

All things considered, it’s not the worst thing that’s happened to him. His (small) limbs are intact and following the baseline anatomy of a Hylian, he’s still in the place and time he was in moments ago, there are no celestial bodies falling from the sky, and nobody has died.

“Well,” he says, grimacing at how high his voice is. “There’s no use standing here and doing nothing, do any of you have something I can wear?”

That snaps them out of their stupor.

 

* * *

 

Wind has a summer dress that fits him perfectly.

“This is your sister’s, isn’t it?” He holds the dress up. It’s blue with red flower patterns decorating it. Too small for Wind, but probably the right size for the sister he mentioned.

“Yep,” Wind says. “Grandma asked me to give them away since they were getting small for her. She won’t mind.”

He’s relieved, he doesn’t think he can avoid staining and permanently ruining the dress even if he tried. With growing up in a forest, being a hero, and working in a farm—the concept of avoiding dirt and mud was not something he never fully grasped.

“I don’t suppose you have any footwear to go with it?”

Wind does.

It’s a good thing all of them are hoarders.

 

* * *

 

“You’re wearing a dress,” Warrior states, voice filled with disbelief. “It has flowers.”

“The flowers are nice,” he agrees, he’s always liked things that reminded him of nature. “And it’s light, Zelda’s dresses were always heavy.”

Wind nods. “Yeah, Tetra hated them. Said they were a drowning hazard.”

Warrior gapes. “What?”

“There’s a story in there,” Forge comments. “If she’s anything like my Zelda, there was bound to be mischief.”

All the Links lean forward.

He laughs. “Nothing as fantastical as you’re imagining!” Not for this one, anyways. “Sometimes we played dress-up, that’s all.” A lot of Kokiri did too, and Malon.

All the Links feel a little underwhelmed.

“Isn’t it… er-” Warrior looks for the right words. “Uncomfortable?”

He tilts his head. “I don’t see why it would be,” he answers. “It’s a perfectly normal dress.”

“But it’s for-”

“For?” He repeats, raising an eyebrow.

Warrior feels like if he pushes further, it’ll be one more step to disappointment. He may not have Twilight’s fear of the old man’s neutral face of displeasure, but it’s not something he likes to experience either.  “Nothing! You look very fetching.”

“Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

They insist on lending him their magic items, even while he has his own.

It’s touching that they care, and he understands their worry, but it’s also incredibly annoying. He may not have Legend’s arsenal of tools, Twilight’s strength, or Wild’s unique magic, but he’s still a hero.

He’d started his adventure when he was younger than his body’s current age.

He accepts Forge’s dagger because he can’t carry his sword, but he puts his foot down on anything else. He won’t take any more of their things (won’t shave away their chances of survival).

They ask if he’s sure, they offer their items again, they insist.

The child in him wants to snap.

(Wants to scream that he knows songs that can twist days and has items that rival the power of a god. He’s fought creatures made of blood, pain, and nightmares. His body has been changed so many times that he’s not sure what he is anymore. This is _nothing._ )

“I fought the moon when I was this age,” he says dryly. “I can handle a wizzrobe.”

Many of them start to protest. He gives them a silent glare, and their words die down.

 

* * *

 

“... So the moon was a metaphorical moon, right?” Twilight asks, voicing out the question that’s been burning in everyone’s mind.

He stops, looks at them all with wide guileless eyes, blinks a few times, and gives them a bright smile. “No,” he chirps, sincere and sweet, looking like an actual child at that moment.

Twilight can’t tell if he’s lying or not.

Wild thinks of Purah and hopes they can undo this soon.

Wind is reminded of Aryll, and promptly wants to remove that thought out of his mind.

He turns back and continues walking, he’ll never get tired of their confusion about the moon.

 

* * *

 

They get ambushed by a group of bokoblins from Wild’s world (despite being in Legend’s world), and he uses this opportunity to practice with his younger body.

The thing about being smaller than most enemies is you had to be more creative. Brutally creative.

He doesn’t have Navi or Tatl to support him anymore, but he does have years of training and experience.

It takes a few moments to adjust, takes a few more to stamp down the frustration of how _short_ and _weak_ his hits are compared to his adult body, but he adapts. One can do a lot of things with a hookshot, a boomerang, and liberal amounts of bombs and arrows.

At the end of the fight, the Links are less insistent on coddling him. It’s both awe-inspiring and terrifying to see a ten-year-old stab bokoblins’ heads with his tiny dagger.

(He didn’t even need his masks.)

 

* * *

 

Two days later and their search is fruitless. Legend suggests going to his Hyrule and seeing Princess Zelda, if she didn’t have a clue on how to reverse this then there’s probably something in his house that could help.

They agree, they have no other leads left.

 

* * *

 

It’s still dark when he awakes.

The combination of nerves, the boundless energy of his child body, and the feeling of someone watching him makes it difficult to achieve a long sleep. He sits up and looks around, he sees Sky (it was his turn to keep watch) hastily go back to carving on a piece of wood—trying his hardest not to look like he was staring at him at all.

Honestly, these boys. He gets up and walks over to Sky, dragging his bedroll with him. “Rupee for your thoughts?”

Sky stiffens, then scratches his head and looks at him sheepishly. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t think you’d wake up.”

“I couldn’t sleep anyways,” he waves off. “Youthful energy, I suppose.”

“Youthful, right,” Sky mutters, staring down at his work in progress.

He doesn’t need Zelda’s wisdom to know something’s bothering him. He puts down his bedroll and sits on it, he stares up at the stars. He waits. People were always willing to share with him when he was quiet.

Eventually, Sky talks. “I never really thought about it before.” His voice is quiet. “Wind is pretty obvious, and Legend and Jack sometimes mention it but it never really stuck in my mind that-”

Sky closes his eyes and lets out a shuddering breath. “Then I saw you fight, I realized that this was something the others did as well. When they were young.”

“You were young as well,” he points out. They all were. Boys shouldn’t worry about death, they shouldn’t be burdened with other people’s lives, they shouldn’t have nightmares that would make veteran soldiers cry.

“But I wasn’t a child, children shouldn’t have to fight like that,” Sky protests, echoing Warrior’s beliefs so long ago. “You shouldn’t have had to.”

_How low can we get, to let children fight our battles?_

But the goddesses rarely cared for that. If their chosen hero suffered, they gave blessings. Not one to ebb the pain, but one to endure it better. To keep going.

Their gifts were not truly gifts, not in a mortal’s sense anyways. They were merely a way to encourage the hero to venture on. To get up and keep moving, even if the path promised more pain. A message that said _I have given you the tools, you have no excuse to stop._

He makes sure not to look at the sword strapped on Sky’s back as he formulates a reply.

“I can’t speak for the others, but it was my choice,” he says, because the goddesses may give their divine gifts, but it’s his decision to use them or not. To continue or not. He respects them, but he’ll never trust them.

He could have left that sword on its pedestal and forgot about the hellish future he saw. He could have run away and let the moon to fall, escape from the world that was brave and stupid enough to mock the goddesses.

He could have stayed in Kokiri Forest, blissfully unaware of the world outside.

 _“_ _Nobody would blame you, Link,” Navi once said, tired and weary. “I wouldn’t blame you. We’ve done enough, haven’t we?”_

“It was my choice,” he repeats. He could have done all that, but the guilt would haunt him for the rest of his life. “I didn’t have to, but I knew I would regret it if I didn’t try.”

 _“_ _You’re an idiot for wanting to  fight that thing!” Tatl laughed hysterically. “But I’m an idiot as well, ‘cause I’m still here for some reason.”_

“I’m sorry,” Sky says, looking ready to cry. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _I’m sorry._ ”

He blinks. “What for?”

Sky doesn’t answer. He’s looking down, the carved wood lain forgotten on the ground. He’s slouched, body trembling.

This close he can hear the sobs the boy is trying to stifle.

He stands up and  wraps his arms around Sky, as much as his short arms can anyways.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking, I know it’s not your fault,” he murmurs. “We all have the bad habit of blaming ourselves for everything, you’re no exception.”

“And if I said it was my fault we’re here?” Sky asks. “That I cursed us all to be heroes? To fight even though we shouldn’t?”

“Then I’ll repeat my last statement,” he squeezes tight. “You were not the one who destroyed my home, and I doubt you were responsible to the other hardships the others have faced.”

Sky shakes his head. “I could have done better, could have avoided this.”

What a familiar thing to say, they really were both Links. “You could have done everything perfect and it would still go wrong,” he says. “That’s not a flaw in your part, it’s life.”

Sky says nothing.

“And usually life is an utter bitch,” he adds.

That gets him a shaky wet laugh. “Even when saving the world?”

“Especially when saving the world.”

 

* * *

 

It’s a small mercy that Hyrule is nearby, and it gets better when the Princess Zelda of this world can undo whatever spell was thrown on him.

“You’ll have to-er,” the young lady turns as pink as her dress. “Your clothes won’t grow with you, so-uh...”

Ah. “Would you like us to do this in a more private area?” He offers.

"Yes," she says quickly. "That would be wise."

Warrior snickers, Twilight elbows him.

“Mind fixing that one too, princess?” Legend asks, jabbing his thumb in Warrior’s direction. “He got hit as well, except it did the opposite effect. He’s actually five years old.”

“Hey!”


	2. Younger Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what if Time's body was still the same, but his mind reverted back to when he was a child?
> 
> No beta, I die like the Hyrule Warrior I wish I was.

Time woke up different. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know why he was in wherever with a group of people, he didn’t even know who they were _._ The last thing he remembered was his Hyrule suffering under the rule of Ganondorf.

He’d been incredibly wary, glancing left and right, hands twitching sporadically. Warrior swore the man was one second away from using his sword at them all if Wild hadn’t calmed him down.

Whatever the wizzrobe did? Wiped out his memories until a certain point in time. Warrior doesn’t know by how much, it’s definitely not the age this younger Time insists he is.

Twilight’s suspicions fuels his doubts.

“He says he’s sixteen, but-” he glances at Time, who’s helping Wild with tonight’s meal. So far it was only Wild he was comfortable being with. He was skittish with everyone else. “-he’s lying, I don’t need my instincts to know that. He doesn’t act sixteen.”

It’s so odd to see Time like this. It’s the same body, the same armor, the same face. But he lacks the calm demeanor, the quiet confidence, the everpresent wizened gleam in his eye that told you he was older than he seemed.

“People act differently around strangers,” Warrior points out, though it’s half-hearted at best. He wants to believe Time, he really does. But his mind is screaming that something is wrong. “It could be stress.”

Twilight purses his lips. “Maybe,” he says. “You knew him when he was young, is he acting the same?”

They look at Time and Wild. The latter was talking as he stirred the pot, explaining how each vegetable he put in the stew would enhance the fish. Time looks completely engrossed at Wild’s explanation, eye focused on the bubbling stew.

He would occasionally sign, asking questions. Wild answered them, unbothered by Time’s preference of being verbally silent.

It was rather cute.

“No,” he answers, remembering the quiet child he found in the chaos of Hyrule Field. “The Time I met was also cagey about his age. But he took to being dumped in another world surprisingly well for a kid-”

Something clicks.

He turns to Twilight with wide eyes. “He’s a _child,_ ” he breathes. “I met Time when he was ten, twelve if we push it. And if he were really sixteen…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but Twilight can figure out what he means. If an adult Time could recognize Warrior, then a teenage Time should have recognized him too.

They look at the two some more. Wild offers Time a small sample to taste. A few seconds later, Time’s face is scrunched up in disgust. Wild laughs.

“Why lie, though?” He wonders.

 

* * *

 

People looked at him funny when he said he was nine years old. That’s the first thing he and Navi figured out when he was in the future. So they made a rule about it, no telling his real age.

He’s not sure how old he is now, but he’s defaulted to sixteen so many times that it was reflex blurting it out. Besides, sixteen is a lot. An adult number. It should get the point across.

Though that’s the only rule he hasn’t broken so far.

He’s breaking a lot of rules right now. Don’t accept people’s requests immediately, don’t stay alone with strangers for too long, look for Navi (or even Sheik) when you’re lost.

Wild ladles a bit of the soup on a bowl, he blows on it a bit and takes a sip. “Hmm, seems good.” He offers the bowl to him. “Though a second opinion never hurts, what do you think?”

Don’t talk to strangers without Navi.

Don’t trust strangers, even if they’re nice (especially when they’re nice, Sheik had said. He thinks the man is being way too paranoid). Don’t eat strangers’ food or drinks (“For the love of Nayru, Link. _Don’t._ ”).

He clenches his fists. What should he do? He’s with a group he doesn’t know and there’s no Navi in sight. They’re strangers, and he shouldn’t even talk to strangers without her.

But he woke up feeling like the entire definition of a bruise. Stuck in a body that looked far older than last time (how much time did he lose again, was it another seven years?) and surrounded by a bunch of people who didn’t look as scary as he first thought.

He was tired, confused, and a little hungry. Navi wasn’t here to lecture him, so… so… he could do whatever? He could do whatever.

(What happened to Navi?)

He accepts the bowl.

He takes a sip and wrinkles his nose. He gives it back and signs, “Too fishy.”

“Not a fan of the taste, huh?” Wild asks, smiling. “A bit of ginger should do the trick.” He rummages his bag for said root.

He blinks.

“Ginger can remove the fishy smell,” Wild explains, peeling and slicing them into thin strips and throwing them in the pot. “Soaking it in milk works too, but we don’t have any right now.”

Oh, so that’s why Malon did that to fish? He always thought it was because they had a lot of milk to spare.

 

* * *

 

“Should we really let him fight?”

“I don’t think he’ll appreciate being benched.”

A hiss, almost a snarl. “He may have an adult body, but he’s still a kid inside.”

“I know,” Warrior says, each word feeling like a heavy stone in his gut. It was like he was back in the battlefield again, arguing with Impa about letting a boy join the fight. Except this time, he was Impa. “I _know_ , Twi. But what do you want me to do? Take away his weapons? Tell him he can’t join the fight? Give him a timeout? He’s a kid, but he’s also Link. Would you have nodded along and sit in the sidelines?”

Silence.

“I’d rather he won’t do anything stupid behind our backs,” Warrior scratches his head, frustrated. “It sucks, but this is a lesser evil.”

A sigh. “At least tell me we’re going to have someone watch him?”

“Of course.” Warrior looks affronted. “It may have been dangerous for him alone, but the old man has all of us to cover for him.”

 

* * *

 

Despite his (mental) age, Time is still a ferocious warrior in battle. What he lacks in experience, he makes up for his quick-thinking and adaptability.

Twilight recognizes a few of the moves. They’re unpolished, more raw speed and power than the optimized movement and practical grace he saw with the hero’s shade. But it’s definitely Time’s sword techniques.

That’s impressive, is his first thought.

He learned them as a child, is his second thought.

What did he experience, for him to need to learn these deadly techniques? Is his third one.

(His fourth one was, dear goddesses did he just do a _mortal draw?_ )

 

* * *

 

He asks them if he was with a fairy called Navi. He’s met with a resounding no. Most of them are curious. Time didn’t have any companion with him, and he rarely shares stories about his adventures.

Jack remembers the bowls of sugar water around Lon Lon Ranch, remembers all the fairies gathered around them, remembers the sad look Malon had when she said they were looking for someone.

Warrior remembers a little boy who looked ready to cry when Proxi introduced herself.

They turn away when Time lets out a soft downtrodden “oh”.

It’s the first thing he’s said since he woke up.

(Warrior gives a warning glare to anyone who’s itching to ask more questions.)

 

* * *

 

Link’s been in this body for two days and he’s still not sure what to make of it. He’s not sure what to make of his companions either.

They call him Time and it takes him a while to get used to it. It takes him a while to get used to a lot of things.

He only has one eye now, trying to open the other one hurts. He has tattoos on his face that make him look intimidating. He wears armor that’s too heavy and clunky, so unlike the Kokiri clothing he had as both a child and—and-... past adult? Younger adult?

He doesn’t know anymore (is he just going to wake up and find time has passed without him?).

He’s too tall, his limbs are too long, and his body is too strong. It’s like waking up in that chamber again, except worse—because now he can only see in one eye (did he get this in a fight?), his clothes don’t feel familiar at all (what happened to his tunic?), and Navi isn’t there (where is she?).

Walking shouldn’t be hard yet it is because he only has _one eye_ and the armor feels so weird and he doesn’t even have Navi to tell him to watch out-

He hits another tree again.

“Are you okay?” One of them asks. Wind, he thinks.

He’s not going to cry. He’s _not._ It doesn’t even hurt, he’s gotten worse tree-related injuries back at home for crying out loud. A bump on a, quite frankly, frail and wimpy-looking oak shouldn’t affect him so much.

He replies to Wind with a bit more force than usual, gestures swift and angry.

“... Uh.”

He huffs. Right, not everyone knows sign. “Fine,” he replies.

“Is he crying?” He hears someone whisper.

“No,” he says quickly, wiping his eye. “No, m’fine.”

(If he says it enough times, it’ll become true.)

The one with the scarf, Warrior, steps up and looks him over. Worry evident in his face. It rankles his entire being. “We’ll take a short break,” he declares. “Get some fresh air, we’ve trekked enough.”

No they haven’t. Everyone knows this, Link knows this. They left after eating lunch, it’s been two hours since then. They haven’t even encountered monsters. “I’m fine,” he grits out, then continues in sign. “I can continue, I’m not a-” kid. “-burden.”

Warrior frowns, then replies in sign as well, his movements gentle. “I never said you were, this situation is stressful for everyone. We should take it easy until we adjust.”

“No,” he insists. “No, I’m fine _._ ” How many times did he have to say it? “I’ve adjusted. Let’s go.”

“Link-”

“I’m fine.” His hands are shaky. “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine! Stop coddling me, I’m-”

_-not a kid anymore! He wants to scream, wants to drag all of these people down with his hookshot and say it in their faces._

_He’s so tired of their smiles and condescending tones when they talk to him. Even if he was younger, do they really think ten year olds are that dumb?_

_It’s the longest three days of his life and he knows it’s going to get longer._

_(He misses Navi.)_

“-ink! Link!” Someone’s holding his shoulders. “Hey, back with us, ki-buddy?”

“M’fine,” he repeats softly, pushing Warrior away and taking a few steps back. “I-” Navi’s gone, why is she gone? What happened to him? _Why is she gone?_ “I just need-” he reaches for his ocarina. “-some time.”

And with that, he quickly plays the Song of Time in reverse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there may be a part 2 maybe??? Idk


	3. Younger Mind (Growing Up)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing up has never been a fun experience for Link. Growing up a second time is even worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, sorry this chapter is a bit short.
> 
> No beta I die like a Hyrule Warrior.

Link puts down his ocarina and lets out a shuddering breath. 

He stares at Warrior, who’s looking at him with wide, panicked eyes. His arm is outstretched, reaching for him. His tail end of his (familiar) scarf floats gently, almost frozen in place.

Behind the man are the others, confusion and alarm written on their faces. They're moving as well, slow and sluggish, as if submerged under water. Fighting against an unseen current.

Silence graces his ears, the echoes of the song fading away as the flow of time passes.

Warrior's arm is a little closer, still trying to reach him. He looks-

_-up at the man, at another him in another life. So similar yet so different._

_The tunic and cap are green, but his never had gold embroidery and accents. He never had chainmail, or pauldrons, or a blue scarf either._

_(And his hair never looked that soft.)_

_He was never trained as a soldier, never had that skill in fighting. He fumbled and learned how to fight._

_He was never that confident in his body._

_He never had a fairy that stayed._

_He holds back the urge to scream, to cry how unfair it was (the world was mocking him, showing him an adult version that was far better than he was in every possible way)._

_He knows better, he's not a child anymore. It's not the man's fault he feels this way (stop it, stop it, stop it,_ **_grow up_ ** _)._

_This Link has enough burdens, he knows it more than anyone. He doesn't need to deal with a (lesser) littler version of himself._

_He clenches his fists, turns, and-_

-walks away.

 

* * *

 

This body has a lot of magic, frighteningly so. 

He's played the song several times and he’s only slightly winded. He's been walking at a leisurely pace, playing the song when he feels the magic fade. 

He wonders if it's because it's older. He remembers being frustrated with his younger body whenever he placed that sword in the pedestal. How he tired more easily than his adult one, how he couldn't use his spells as much or else he'd faint.

_He hates this body._

_His voice is too low, he's too big to sneak in anywhere, he can't use his old stuff because he's "an adult". People look at him weirdly when he laughs or cries too much._

_Nobody at home recognizes him. His treehouse is too small. Everything is too small. It should feel like home but it doesn't._

_It feels like loss._

Or maybe it's because he's used to time magic at this point. He's changed day to night and night to day, he's gone to the past and future, he can speed up and slow down time. It's become second nature to him.

He remembers Navi's warning of using the Song of Time sparingly ("This could have repercussions," she had said).

_He doesn't like this body anymore._

_People don't take him seriously, his attacks don't reach as far, he gets tired far too often. Everything is so hard to reach._

_He misses his bow and hammer. He hates that he's too small to use the Hylian Shield properly. He misses carrying the Biggoron sword with ease, he misses its range and strength._

_He stays in Lon Lon Ranch more often than he goes back to the forest. The memory of him becoming too big for his home bothers him._

_He can imagine himself growing up in the ranch. He'd never hit his head on the ceiling or crouch low just to fit in a door._

_He can't imagine the same with his treehouse._

He remembers Tatl's unease on how easy it was to rewind days ("This isn't natural," she'd whisper).

_He's tired of this body._

_He's been a child, an adult, and a child again. He doesn't know what his age is anymore. Sometimes he feels older, more mature (exhausted). Other times he feels like a kid again, the urge to play and do mischief strong._

_He's not sure if he should call himself a Kokiri, calling himself Hylian feels wrong too._

_And now? Sometimes he's a Deku Scrub, or a Zora, or a Goron. Sometimes he's even a monstrous version of his adult self, fierce and powerful._

_He changes and changes and changes that he doesn't know what he is anymore._

_He doesn't have time to be himself._

Laughter bubbles up his throat. Dry and sharp, more akin to an animal in pain. He's sure anyone passing by will think he's insane.

He doesn't care. 

He laughs so hard that his whole body shakes. He scrunches his eyes--eye, he only has one that works--and presses his palm against his face, trying to calm himself down.

His palm is damp, probably the sweat from all the walking.

_He doesn't notice him, too distracted with being a Deku Scrub (why did this happen to him?) to watch his surroundings. He looks up when he hears an airy voice comment._

"You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?" He tells himself, tone bitter.


	4. Younger Mind (Getting There)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing up is never easy, but it can be bearable given the right circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (wheezes) I'm finally done.

He continues walking, putting back the ocarina in his pouch. He's wasted enough magic as it is.

"This was not my best idea," he sighs, scratching his head. "Maybe I should go back?"

He winces. "Then again, I'm likely-"

_Navi scolding him to be more careful next time, hovering around him worriedly._

“-... to get lectured,” he finishes.

_Tatl snapping at him, telling him that was stupid. The anger wasn't as intimidating with the tremors in her voice._

He glances at his shoulder. Vast fields of green, a person sprawled face down in the river, and a few trees here and there. 

_Bigger Him was screaming, threatening to take away his sword if he does something this reckless again. It reminds him of Sheik, the rare times he intervened in his quests. Except he never shouted, did he?_

_He can't remember, he's too dizzy._

Nobody was there, he's not in trouble (yet).

He blinks.

He stares at the river.

The person isn't moving, bobbing up and down on the water. The river's current carrying them to who knows where.

He rushes towards the river, hoping to the goddesses that he can swim with all this armor on. He lets out a litany of swears as he jumps in, the water is freezing.

 

* * *

 

"I think you traumatized Sky," Wind comments. For once, he wasn't the one in the group making weird faces. He pats Sky's shoulder. "I've said worse."

That doesn't make Sky feel better, especially when half of Warrior’s swears were saying Hylia’s name in vain.

"I forgot he could do that!" Warrior slaps his head. Frustration, anger, and worry building up. "Fucking dumbass! He's the _Hero of Time_ , he did the same bullshit in the battlefield too! How could I forget that?!"

He made the (stupid) assumption that this younger Time didn't remember any songs that could manipulate time. And had the (even more stupid) sense of security in that this younger Time didn’t use his magic that much (the old man rarely did, and Young Link often saved his energy for emergencies).

“We shouldn’t have let Time come with us,” Twilight hisses. “He should have stayed-”

“Stayed where, Twi?” Warrior snaps, irritation added to his list of things building up inside him. Twilight had been against bringing Time to the party the moment they realized that Time was (mentally) a kid. “An inn? A tavern? Someone’s house? A goddess damned daycare?”

He gestures at the surroundings. Trees, more trees, and even more trees. “See any fucking buildings anywhere, farmboy? Because if you have, by all means, _enlighten me_.”

“He could have stayed in the camp! Some of us would have watched over him while-!”

“Do you have goat cheese for brains too?” He cuts off, glaring at Twilight. “Splitting us up? When there are enhanced monsters out to attack us? When we get teleported at random places in random times?"

“We still shouldn’t have let him fight!”

“He could handle it!”

“He shouldn’t have to!” Twilight snarls, pointing his finger at Warrior’s chest. “Maybe using Time as a child soldier was fine in your world-”

“Hey,” Forge stands up, raising his hands. “We should-”

“-but most people aren’t okay with that!” Twilight glares. “Not everything is a war, not everyone can stoop as low as you did.”

“Twilight!” Forge snaps. “Where is this coming from? You don’t know that!”

“Don’t I? The old man said so himself, his adventures were of _war_. And don’t think I forgot the few times you’ve mentioned Time joining the battles!”

“That’s taking too many things out of context! We should really-”

“No,” Warrior says, voice blank. Forge lets out a sigh of frustration. “No, he’s right. I was a shit guardian, end of story. Are we done now?”

“What, you think just saying sorry-”

“You can bitch about how I fucked up the kid later,” he snaps, tired. “I’ll give you some fucking ink and paper so you can make a list, _I’ll even join and help_. But right now, You--Time is missing and instead of finding him we’re too busy screaming like deranged cuccos.”

“Like they aren’t deranged all the time?” Legend snorts, Jack elbows him.

Twilight looks like he’s about to say more, but a tug on his shoulder cuts him off. He turns to see Wild, who’s looking at him with a frown. Wild shakes his head. 

Twilight sighs, shame slowly creeping inside. Warrior was right, this was wasting time.  “I can track him, his trail is still fresh.”

“Finally,” Forge mutters.

“I was one second away from blasting a gust of wind at them,” Wind agrees.

 

* * *

 

He’s one second away from dropping this old man and leaving him there. Who decides to go fishing without any gear? Who thinks jumping in and grabbing the fish is a good idea? 

Sheikah, apparently. Crazy old Sheikah who thought that today was a good day for fishing because “the music sounded right”.

He wonders if Impa was an outlier in that she was a practical and logical woman. Sheik was definitely flashier (though maybe that was more Hylian than Sheikah).

“And I said—am I boring you, boy?”

“It’s less boring and more aggravating,” he states bluntly, shifting his arms a bit to secure his hold on the geezer. “You sure we’re going in the right direction, old man? This doesn’t-”

He yelps as a hand whacks his head. For an old man, he hit hard. “What was that for?!”

“Didn’t anyone tell you to respect your elders?!”

“Didn’t anyone tell you not to hit the guy who’s carrying you all the way home?!” He snaps, eye twitching.

“Don’t you sass me, boy.”

“It’s not sass if it’s the truth,” he mutters, then yelps as he’s whacked on the head again. “Alright! I’m sorry, you crazy geezer! I thought Sheikah were supposed to be calm and smart!”

“You’re still sassing me! Do that apology again!” Another whack. “Kids these days, were you raised in a jungle?!”

“Forest, actua-” Whack, whack, whack. “-I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Hm, that will do.” 

He lets out a sigh of relief as the whacks stop. 

_“Told you not to be a little shit around them,” Bigger Him laughs, feeling no pity at his plight. “There’s a time for backtalk, and there’s a time for letting it slide. This was the latter.”_

‘Crazy old geezer,’ he thinks, annoyed. This time, he’s careful not to voice that out. 

Why did he say yes to carrying the old man all the way to Castle Town?

_“You think you’re so tough and stoic, fairy boy.” She smiles. “But I know you’re a softie at heart.”_

 

* * *

 

“Anyone recognize where we are?” Legend asks, giving their surroundings a quick scan as Twilight is doing his thing. “It’s not my Hyrule.”

“Definitely not mine,” Wind pipes up.

“Or mine,” Sky adds.

Wild taps his slate and shakes his head. “Not mine.”

The rest give similar answers as well.

Warrior is silent, he has been since that fight. He shakes his head and says nothing, going back to being broody. It’s an odd sight, they’re used to him talking with Time and Twilight about what to do next. Either that or he’s snarking with Legend.

Now Twilight and Warrior aren’t on speaking terms, and Time isn’t here.

Legend sighs, scratching his head. Goddess damn it, this was why he refused to be a leader. Too much work for little reward (his whole life as a hero has been that). He’d never become one, even if he was paid to do it. He still isn’t.

He walks towards Warrior. “Hey.”

The man twitches. “Really not in the mood, Legend.”

“Well, fuck you too,” he shoots back, though there’s no heat to it. “How long are you gonna sulk over farmboy’s words?”

“I’m not sulking.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I’m reflecting on my past mistakes.”

“Deep,” he comments. “Sounds like shit I’d read in a philosophy book, maybe I’ll use that when I’m done with society and decide to live as a hermit until I’m old. Find a cozy cave, spook some brats, throw a sword at them.”

Warrior sighs. “What do you want? Are you here to lecture me too?”

“Goddess no, you’re a big boy, captain.” Legend raises an eyebrow. “It’s obvious you’re guilty. I’m here to tell you to get over it, not everything’s about you.”

Warrior gapes at him. “If this is your way of making me feel better, it’s severely lacking.”

“Fuck you,” Legend repeats, almost cheerful. “Are you gonna blame yourself the next time Wild gets hurt? Or when Jack faints from magic exhaustion? Or when Wind or Sky catch another sickness?”

“That’s different.”

“How so? Because you’ve never seen them when they were wee little lads?”

“... Wee little lads.”

“Shut up, I’m on a roll.”

Warrior brings up his hands in surrender.

“What happened to the old man is not your fault.” Legend crosses his arms. “What happened after is not your fault. And while I know fuck all about your past, I’m sure what happened to the old man when he was a kid wasn’t your fault either. Twilight's being a dick.”

At the corner of his eye, he sees Twilight twitch. Good to know his suspicions of him having better senses of smell _and_ hearing was right.

“It’s not that simple,” Warrior sighs. “He was a kid, I’m an adult. Kids shouldn’t be taking arms and fighting other soldiers. I should have been firmer in making him stay away from battles.”

Legend laughs, bitter. “Yeah, well, kids can be stubborn shits. You can tell them to stay put all you want but they’ll follow you anyways.”

He knows, he was that kid (it seemed Time was too, who would have known).

“When that happens? The best you can do is survive long enough to ground them for eternity.” He shrugs. “Least, that’s what I can think of.”

“... I took away his Biggoron Sword a lot,” Warrior admits. “Among other things.”

“He already had that behemoth?”

That gets him a laugh. “It looked ridiculous on him, he could barely swing it properly.”

The image of a small Time trying to use the gigantic sword he had now was a hilarious image Legend wishes he could see.

“Wasn’t enough, though,” Warrior says, looking away.

Legend’s eye twitches as Warrior goes back to brooding. He prays to the golden goddesses to give him the patience to not strangle the man with his own scarf, it’s like he erased all the things he said just now.

“You know,” he starts, wracking his brain for something. “My Hyrule had a dark age, we don’t have any records during that age besides the one about the fallen hero. The one who failed to stop Ganon. Long story short, he was killed.”

Warrior gives him a look that asks him what he’s going with this.

“He’s different from Wild,” he continues. “He stayed dead, he never had a second chance to defeat Ganon and free Hyrule. I was the next hero after him.” 

He closes his eyes.  “Every death I saw, every kill I made, every scar I’ve gained. Do you think I blamed that hero?” He scoffs. “Maybe at first. But it became old fast. Old and useless. The hero didn’t fuck with my life.” The hero didn’t kill his uncle. “An ugly pig did.”

Warrior snorts.

“Win or lose, it didn’t change the fact that Ganon was the one who wanted to destroy Hyrule.” He opens his eyes and looks at Warrior. “You want someone to blame for all the shit that’s happened to Time? Blame the actual villains.” 

 

* * *

  

He’s blaming that goddess damned wizzrobe for the situation he’s in.

His head hurts, the memories just ram into his skull whenever he feels like. He’s around seventeen years old mentally, give or take. That’s his best guess, there’s no order for his memories.

So, he has throbbing headaches, he’s away from the party, he’s a hundred percent sure that Bigger H— _Warrior_ will be pissed, and he’s drained of magic.

Also, the geezer won’t stop talking. He’s tuned out most of it, especially when he started raving about his grandchildren and how he couldn't wait to see them.

“Say, boy.”

“What,” he says with gritted teeth.

“How did you know?”

He waits for the old man to continue, when a few seconds of silence has passed, he mentally holds himself back from saying something asinine. There’s a time for backtalk, this is not one of them. “How did I know what?”

“That I was a Sheikah, boy! Were you not listening?”

“Not really, no.” It was worth the whack to say that.

“Boy…”

If the old man’s head wasn’t resting at his blind side, he would have given him a deadpan side-eye. “Red eyes, Sheikah clothes, and the whole sneaky thing.”

“Sneaky thing?”

He hums. “The few Sheikah I’ve met, they’re quiet in everything. Walking, running, talking, breathing. Even their magic feels quiet. Compact, like they don’t want the world to notice.”

_“Impa’s gonna find out eventually, you know,” he comments, swinging his legs. He giggles as this world’s Sheik jerks and jumps away from the tree she was leaning on. She looks up at the branch he’s sitting on. “She’s just worried about other stuff to notice. You’re good, but it’s obvious you weren’t raised a Sheikah.”_

_His Sheik would have noticed him before he said anything, his Sheik wasn’t as noisy when attacking, much less walking. His Sheik’s magic didn’t shine like a star wanting to burst forth._

_“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone.” He tilts his head. “But if Mister Captainman asks, I’m not gonna lie.”_

A snort. “Do I sound quiet to you, boy?”

“You’re not giving me anything that clues me to who you are, you’re quiet in that aspect,” he refutes. “A grandfather excited to see his grandchildren in town? Common. Fishing and getting injured, with a ridiculous reason? Probably senile.”

A beat.

_For every meeting, there is surely a parting. He knows this._

_He made sure to nip in the bud the first one he might have. When this Zelda gave the ocarina, he vowed never to get near her or any of the royals again._

_This Zelda will not be the Zelda he knew._

_There’s no grief in losing their Hylian father, neither is there grief in losing their Sheikah mother. There’s no loss weaved into their story. There’s no sharp edge in their eyes that tell of how much they’ve endured under a dictatorship that’s lasted seven years._

_He’s being shallow and unfair, he knows that. But he misses Sheik as much as he misses Zelda, perhaps even more. Sheik was the person Zelda grew up to be in those seven years. And this Zelda will never become Sheik._

_The princess still has her father. She still has her caretaker, Impa. There is no Ganondorf to destroy the Hyrule now, there will be no dictator ruling over these lands. He made sure of that._

_With all of this, there shouldn’t be a Sheik. That person was born from tragedy._

_He doesn’t want to be near the physical embodiment of all the bonds that will never exist here._

_“You know, you’re surprisingly hard to find, hero.” Red eyes gleam at him, triumphant. “You said you weren’t interested in being friends with Princess Zelda.”_

_As he gapes at the armored Sheikah hanging upside down on the ceiling of his room in Lon Lon Ranch, he remembers that his Zelda had been stubborn from the start._

_“How about Sheik, then?”_

“They also annoy the hell out of me, with throwing deku nuts everywhere and leaving cryptic messages,” he states, realizing that there was something rummaging through his pouch. “And if they start rifling through my things, I will personally warp them in Death Mountain, take away their harp, and laugh as they sweat like crazy _._ ”

Sheik (the first he met) cackles. Wrapping their arms around his neck and leaning back, they pull hard. He yelps, flailing as he tries to keep balance (Farore they’re still so strong) and falls backwards.

Swears and laughter echoes through the field.

_“I’ve been waiting for you, hero.”_

 

* * *

 

When they arrive at Castle Town, the sun is already setting.

“He’s here,” Twilight murmurs, eyeing the bustling town warily. The architecture and placement of the buildings in this place, it’s too similar to the ruins in his Hyrule. Were they in his Hyrule, then? Or the old man's?

“There must be a festival happening,” Forge comments, looking at the banners decorating the buildings. There were several booths set-up as well, vendors shouting out deals, buyers letting loose their haggling skills, children begging their parents to buy this and that. Among all of this, the faint sound of music plays in the background. “Will finding him be harder with this crowd?”

“No.”

They all turn to Warrior, who was staring intently at something. “I know where he is, come on.”

He doesn’t stop to listen to their responses, continuing to walk briskly.

“Warrior, wait! What do you mean?” Twilight rushes to catch up. “How do you know where he is?”

“The music.”

“The music?” Jack repeats. “It sounds pretty, a string instrument and a flute, I guess? It’s much better than my recorder for sure.”

“Reminds me of the koroks,” Wild murmurs.

“Oh, same," Wind comments.

“It’s his ocarina,” Warrior says, pace still quick. “And this is one of his favorite songs.”

“It’s pretty faint, are you sure?”

“I know how he plays it, trust me on this.”

They all follow the music, changing directions to where it was louder. It took longer than expected. The place was crowded, and the chatter and screams weren’t helping. None of them were familiar with this Castle Town either.

They find Time near Hyrule Castle’s moat, playing his ocarina. Right next to him was an old man, idly strumming a harp, accompanying Time’s song.

A couple of children crowd near them. Most are wearing green tunics and caps similar to what they wore in their adventures. 

Warrior breathes out a sigh of relief as he sees Time unharmed. He looks at the old man, then at the familiar-looking harp, then at Time’s relaxed face. “Huh.”

“Huh?”

“I think we’re in Time’s Hyrule,” he says, looking around. He remembers the kid saying he knew who his Sheik was all along, because he had his own Sheik in his world. “And I think that's Sheik. Strange, he mentioned they were the same age.”

“Maybe we’re in another time period? Years in the future?” Twilight suggests. 

“Possible.”

“That makes this even more complicated,” Wind complains. “It’s bad enough we’re jumping through our Hyrules, now we’re going through different points of our Hyrules?”

“Aren’t we all going through different points of the same Hyrule?” Sky wonders.

“We could also be going through alternate Hyrules,” Legend points out. “Like a parallel world, or a split timeline. Maybe there’s one, maybe there’s three, who knows.”

“This makes my head hurts,” Jack says.

“Time travel tends to do that,” a voice informs. “Or that’s what my gran says, at least. I wouldn’t know.”

They all jerk and turn to see a young lady standing near them, completely unfazed as most of them bring out their swords. She’s wearing a pink dress, with Hyrule’s crest embroidered on the front of her skirt.

“Hello,” she says, smiling serenely. “I’m Princess Zelda, you must be the group that Sir Link mentioned.”

Twilight narrows his eyes. “I didn’t hear you at all.”

“Thank you, I try my best.”

“They taught you well, princess,” Time’s voice comments, and most jump again at how near the man is. Like the princess, they didn’t hear him coming. They didn’t even notice that the music had stopped.

Princess Zelda giggles. “You’re not too bad yourself, Sir Link.”

“I hate when you do that,” Warrior tells him. “I hated it when you were little, and I hate it now.”

“You don’t mean that, Mister Captainman!” Time laughs.

Warrior blinks, he hasn’t heard that nickname for a long time. Was Time starting to remember?

“I really do,” he insists. “That surprise thing you did during camp? With the mask? Remember that?”

Time blinks, his eyes cloud a bit, then he shakes his head and smirks. “Vaguely.”

“Remember the _hundred times you did that to me as a brat?_ ”

The old man with the harp cackles, slapping Warrior’s arm. The rest of the party jumps again, because it’s the third time another person has popped up without them realizing. “If you fall for the same trick that many times, you deserve the shock, boy!”

Warrior just closes his eyes and breathes, trying to calm his beating heart. He glares at the old man, then turns to Time.

“You alright?” He signs.

Time smiles. Despite his prank moments ago, he looks exhausted.  “I will be.”

“That’s good.” Then, because he hasn’t forgotten the decades shaved off his life since he disappeared, he adds, “I’m taking your Biggoron Sword, you little shit.”

“You _wouldn’t_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Blegh, sorry if it's all over the place. I feel like this could have been way better.


End file.
